


Direct Plea

by EvilMuffins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 'Good' Ending AU, Angst, Established Relationship, Heroes to Villains, M/M, Persona 5 Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: Yusuke leaned over, glancing over articles detailing the exploits of three different politicians who might as well have all been the same person. “That fellow there.” Yusuke indicated the center one. If he were to sentence a man to his death today, he would prefer to know as little as he could get away with.---Three years after Akira sold himself out to the God of Control, Yusuke is faced with a decision.





	Direct Plea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soniagiris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soniagiris/gifts).



> Written for [P5 Secret Santa](https://p5exchange.tumblr.com/) (which I mod!)
> 
> This takes place after the 'good' ending, where Akira takes the deal with Yadayadayada. You mentioned bad end AUs in your prompts, so I hope that this is close enough!

“Hey, Inari,” came the muffled voice of Futaba through his door, and if Yusuke didn’t know better, he might have thought that he detected a hint of concern in the voice of his best friend. “I’m coming in.”

“It’s unlocked,” he replied, although he doubted that a lock would have stopped her. Once Futaba put her mind to something, it would often times have a way of happening.

“I thought so!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the blank canvas collecting dust in the corner, opposite from where Yusuke sat curled up in an easy-chair, absorbed in watching the news.

“- _And in other news, yet another mental shut down has occurred this past week, and it would appear that the Phantom Thieves have no plans to slow down any time soon-“_ The news caster droned.

“Thought what?” Yusuke replied absently, glancing toward the doorway where the flickering of the television cast an eerie reflection over Futaba’s glasses in the otherwise dark room, until the harsh glow of the screen was lost as well. Futaba quickly snatched up the controller, shutting off the set before settling herself onto the arm of the chair.  

“Inari…” Futaba began softly, and in that moment Yusuke was struck by how small she looked, perched like that in the dark with worry written over her still youthful features, so very much like the first time he had ever met her three years ago. She shook her head. “ _Yusuke_ , you- you’re turning into _me,_ the old me, from before you and Akira- and every else- saved me. I haven’t seen you pick up a pencil or brush in months. To be honest, you’re scaring me.”

Yusuke stood without warning, nearly launching Futaba off balance as he strode across the room, flipping on the light switch, only to immediately wish that he hadn’t as he squinted in a fruitless attempt to adjust. At least he could no longer see the pained frown warping the playful smirk that usually graced his friend’s face.

“Are you only speaking to me about this now because you find me an easier target than Akira?”

“What?” Futaba managed, thrown off guard, clearly not having anticipated such a reaction. She should be used to things not turning out as planned by now, Yusuke thought bitterly. “That’s not- Look, I know that you’re in love with him, and he loves you too, he really does, but you can’t continue to let things go on like this. I’m worried about the both of you.”

Reluctantly, Yusuke turned to face her, his eyes having finally adjusted. “I’ll talk with him over dinner, but it will do little good.”

“Please just try,” Futaba implored, patting him reassuringly on the arm on her way out. “If anyone can get him to reflect how far in the toilet things have gotten, it’s you, Inari.”

Yusuke made no comment as he watched Futaba heft up the suitcase she had left out in the hall.

* * *

 

“Yusuke, come over here when you get a chance and tell me which one of these you think we should tackle tomorrow.”

“In a moment,” Yusuke called over his shoulder toward where Akira sat at the kitchen island, papers spread out across the marble in front of him.

Yusuke gave the pan full of vegetables and steak another toss over the flame. Although painting had lost its appeal as of late, having the means to cook three proper meals a day for both himself and his boyfriend was still something of a novelty, even as the years marched on.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Akira commented, joining Yusuke at the stove. Although the apartment’s kitchen was spacious- more than enough so for two- it was an easy fact for Yusuke to forget what with the way Akira had his arms wrapped around his waist, even more tightly than the gripping sensation lodged firmly in his chest. Body heat mingled with that radiating off of the burner, causing the room to grow close all around them.

“I was just simply musing over how pleasant it is to no longer go hungry, that’s all.” The food was beginning to burn now, the aroma tinkling the back of his throat, causing him to swallow hard, although Yusuke did nothing to free his arms from Akira’s embrace in order to tend the overheating pan.

“You’re adorable, Yusuke, you know that?” Akira laughed, setting him free in order to return to his print-outs of various news sites. “I’m really happy that you can finally live the sort of life you deserve. Ever since that first night you stayed over with me in the attic, I’d sit in class for hours, daydreaming about being able to give you something like this.” Yusuke's eyes followed Akira's vague gesture toward the wide window running nearly the length of the livingroom wall behind them, overlooking the heart of Tokyo.  

Once the meal was salvaged to the best of Yusuke’s ability, he served up two plates, before seating himself on the stool beside Akira. Although the apartment had included a dining room, the two often ate at the island unless the rest of the group was to be joining them, which had been happening less and less frequently as of late.

“Do you think Futaba’ll be joining us tonight?” Akira asked hopefully. “I saw her come barging in here earlier, but it looked like she had only come to see you.”

“I don’t expect so, no,” Yusuke answered frankly, remembering their earlier conversation. "I believe she's gone to spend the weekend back at the Boss's."

“Hmm, that’s too bad, but it’s not like we haven’t gone on a heist without her before. Anyway, tell me what you think about these.” The dark gloves perpetually concealing Akira’s hands as of late contrasted starkly against the white of the papers. Although Yusuke hadn’t given much thought as to why their former teammate- the traitor- from so long ago had worn a similar pair, it made a terrible sort of sense now- just another layer added between himself and the rest of the world that he had pressed firmly beneath his thumb.

Yusuke leaned over, glancing over articles detailing the exploits of three different politicians who might as well have all been the same person. “That fellow there.” Yusuke indicated the center one. If he were to sentence a man to his death today, he would prefer to know as little as he could get away with.

“Perfect.” Akira’s lips curled into a smirk that gnawed at the pit of Yusuke’s stomach. He was glad when it disappeared in the form of a quick kiss to his temple. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

Yusuke refrained from asking the reason, instead busying himself with the antique silver fork he used to push the vegetables around on his plate. Whether the man in question had committed some heinous act, or merely stood in the way of what few Phantom Thieves remained, Yusuke preferred not to dwell on the matter, all the while fully aware that this was the very same blind attitude that had gotten him into years of complacency under Madarame.

“Akira…” Yusuke began, finally resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to stomach putting anything into his mouth until the words waiting there first came out.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Akira propped his chin onto his fist, fixing Yusuke with his undivided attention, smirk having faded into an expectant smile, and for a moment, he saw the old Akira, the one from before he had succumbed to temptation, striking up a deal with the God of Control, the Akira who had given him the strength to claw his way toward freedom.

“I was merely wondering when we’ll be heading out to take on the next palace- tonight or tomorrow?” Yusuke finished instead.

Akira picked up his fork once again, returning attention to his meal. “Tomorrow, so get some rest. You haven’t been looking too hot lately.”

“Of course,” Yusuke agreed, thankful for the reprieve granted by extra time.

Although they had grown strong enough to traverse an entire palace in a day, it was still considerably taxing to defeat a palace ruler with Akira and himself as the only combatants, despite Futaba doing her best to aid them. Thankfully, Makoto had devised a handful of improved strategies before leaving them for the police academy, but her presence was still sorely missed, just as the same as that of all of the others. Haru moving to the country to start her café, Ann moving back overseas and taking Morgana along with her. One by one they had given their reasons, although Yusuke knew that something else remained unspoken.

* * *

 

Even the rhythmic breathing of Akira curled up beside him did little good in lulling Yusuke off to sleep. How Akira could still sleep so easily, knowing what they had done to countless people, Yusuke had no idea.

Dragging himself away from the warmth of Akira’s back where it had been pressed up against his side despite the ample room between himself and the edge of the bed, Yusuke fumbled for his phone on the bed stand, waking it up in order to check the time.

As he grimaced at the number on display, thankful that he no longer had to wake up for highschool, Yusuke could feel Akira shifting slightly beside him.

Worried that he had disturbed him, Yusuke looked over to see his face illuminated by the glow of the phone.

Brows knit tightly, lips down-turned and parted, as if he wished to speak but couldn’t.

“ _Akira_ …” Yusuke whispered, reaching out to gently brush stray lock from his sweat-slickened forehead, taking care not to wake him.

A wave of determination settled over Yusuke then, as he clutched his phone tightly, taking a deep breath, thumb hovering over the all-too familiar app.

Even if he couldn’t bring himself to reason with Akira in words, he could still make a direct plea, straight to his heart.

 

 


End file.
